Rumpelstiltskin's Gold
by bamataboiss
Summary: In the book, Bamatabois never actually prepositioned Fantine. He just tormented her. Yet in the musical he prepositioned her. So what if she had not refused his preposition? A strange combination of the book and musical, with a handy bit of alternate universe. Read and review, but please, no flames. Or trolls. Bamatabois/Fantine


**NOTE: **In the book, Bamatabois never actually prepositioned Fantine. He just tormented her. Yet in the musical he prepositioned her. So what if she had not refused his preposition? One-shot. Rated for adult themes. Has musical, book and AU elements.

**Rumpelstiltskin's Gold **

**Warnings: **things that often come with 'lovely ladies'.

**Rating: **M

**Character(s): Fantine** (based on Ruthie Henshall, 10thAC), **Bamatabois** (based on Cameron Blakely, 25thAC ). However Bamatabois is not ever named in this.

**Word Count (fic): **979 words.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Les Misérables_, either book or musical. Though I wish I did.

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It was a freezing night. Fantine had reluctantly joined the other whores of Montreuil-sur-Mer in the winter ice and snow. No one was enjoying the conditions. A couple of whores – the prettiest two of the unfortunate lot – had gone with a man each, over an hour ago. The others did not seem so concerned as Fantine was. One mentioned that they probably had an "all-nighter" each.  
"A-a-an 'all-nighter'?" Fantine asked. How did they know that these whores were not going to have something terrible happen to them?  
"One cus'omer fer the en'ire nigh', dearie. They's pays more. They's watcha wan' on this kind o' nig't." The new girl shivered.

Fantine wore a green silken bodice, low cut, cinched in at the waist, tightly laced to give her bosom more prominence. Her skirt was of the same material, but tattered and above the ankles. Her cropped blonde hair was knotted and she had tried to get most of the dirt off her face, but there was still some upon her face. Her cheeks were overly rouged, but this was common amongst the whores. She silently cursed the whoreson of a foreman…no, it was the Mayor's fault she was in this situation. If he had stopped and listened to her, maybe she would not be just another street tart.

"Here's something new; I think I'll give it a try." The cold voice suddenly put the whores into a flurry of flirtation. The man was clearly familiar to them. Fantine looked up shyly with her beautiful, almond-shaped brown eyes, to see a tall man, possibly in his fifties. Well-dressed although the colours did not entirely match. He looked familiar, but she could not remember his name. He carried a cane, reminding her slightly of Cosette's father. Most importantly, this man, this potential customer, would have some money that she could use to pay for Cosette's medicine.  
"Come closer you, I like to see what I buy." Fantine, realising that he was talking to her, stepped forward reluctantly. She tried to seem seductive, when in all honesty, she just looked awkward and vulnerable.

As much as she did not want to go with this man, she had no choice. If she refused she may end up being reported…and besides it was one step closer to getting the money needed to pay for Cosette's medicine. Everyone seemed to know her story now. That she had a bastard child. She had sold all her lovely golden locks, which had looked like Rumpelstiltskin had spun it from straw, and the locket she was going to give to her precious daughter. With those gone, she had had no choice but to sell her body.

Fantine was trying to tell herself it was Cosette's father - he had come back to her. That he wouldn't leave her again. But the illusion did nothing to help her in the situations where she was prepositioned. It just damaged her further. _No more pretending Fantine,_ she told herself as the man lead her away from the main area of the red light district, _it's just going to make it worse. Think about it this way – Cosette will be one step closer to getting better. _Little did the poor woman know that her daughter's 'illness' was all a con so the Thénardiers could get more money. She had entirely entrusted a strange couple to her beloved child.

Her vision turned blurry as silent tears ran down her dirty, rouged cheeks; she was jolted out of her numb state as she felt a rough thrust inside her. The client must have been frustrated. Fantine prepared herself for the worse. Customers could often be rough, and it seemed this man was no exception to that. Biting her lip, she bided the roughness of the man. She made no sound, although she knew men preferred that they got a reaction from the whores they paid for. She was not going to give this man that satisfaction. Closing her brown eyes, she wished for this ordeal with the customer to end. But she was up against a wall, the sharp thrusts felt like she was being cleaved into two. She'd have bruises in the morning – on her back from the hard bricks, and in the more intimate places from the force of the client. His breath was hot and moist against her neck, the grunts thick with lust and desire. She squeezed her eyes shut harder, trying to imagine she was somewhere else, where she had a future with Cosette…and Tholomyés. It was just a dream…a dream she would not let go of. She still dreamed Tholomyés would come back to her, though he was probably in Toulouse again with some rich lady and their children. The thrusts became more urgent, and Fantine felt relieved that the end was in sight.

"A franc, m'sieur…" she said softly, not looking at the man. The client obliged before leaving Fantine alone in the alleyway. She looked down at the franc in her hand. One step closer to getting Cosette her medicine. Keeping her franc safe, she headed back for the main street where the whores were.

The next day, she saw the same man with a very beautiful, young blonde on his arm, the swell of her belly prominent in her pink dress. Fantine turned away, memories of her and Tholomyés coming back to her. Part of her severely hoped this young blonde, so similar to what she had been when she had been young and unafraid, would not end up down the same route as her. The girl was clearly naïve – it was obvious by her youth, the innocence in her face, and the clear adoration on her face. She did not know what kind of man she was with. If anything, that man deserved a punch in the face for corrupting such an innocent looking girl…

* * *

_**Note:**__ As I suggested in the text above, I believe the reason Fantine refused Bamatabois (musically-speaking), was that he reminded her of Felix Tholomyés – Cosette's father – and she did not want to end up doing the same thing again. That or he had done something similar in the past. Either way, she would have kicked his dandy butt if Javert had not intervened. _


End file.
